


Striking Gold

by Welcome_Remark



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 23:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16505231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welcome_Remark/pseuds/Welcome_Remark
Summary: It can be hard to pull off a bank job when your crew refuses to work together.





	Striking Gold

**Author's Note:**

> This is posted as an entry for my own personal NaNoWriMo - 30 pornographic short stories, based around 30 pieces of hand-drawn or animated porn. The link for the accompanying artwork is at the end of the fic - I did **not** draw it.
> 
> Day 3. No porn with this one, (no good looking porn, anyway) but the pairing is too obvious and the game is too amazing to leave it out.

### Striking Gold

The vault was empty.

Dallas hurriedly took the thermal drill apart and started shoving the pieces back into his bag, only vaguely aware of what the rest of his team were doing. Wolf and Hoxton between them were keeping the worst of the current assault wave at bay, quickly laying out any officer who dared to enter the bank. They must have hit a body count of at least two or three dozen since first setting foot in the bank, ten minutes ago, and true to their styles, they seemed to be keeping scores.

Not for the first time, Dallas caught himself wondering exactly where all these officers kept coming from. The Metropolitan Police, together with the local security firm GenSec, seemed to have an unlimited supply of fresh new volunteers, who apparently climbed over themselves for the chance to rush headlong into the bank and the business end of Wolf's shotgun.

"Guys, did you hear me?" Bain's voice echoed through Dallas's headpiece. "Clover says the vault's empty! You'll need to check the deposit boxes. We can't leave here empty-handed, not after the mess you all made getting here in the first place!"

"Hey. Blame those two trigger-happy idiots for that," Dallas growled into his microphone. He'd wanted to go for a stealthier approach, especially after spending all that money - and cashing in a favour or two - for an up-to-date copy of the building's blueprints. He had enough information to walk into the bank with nothing but a two-piece suit, and have the manager practically hold the door open for him as he left. But, as per usual, it had all gone wrong. Wolf had tripped some alarm elsewhere in the building, Clover and Hoxton had swarmed in with masks on and guns out, and he'd been left standing in line at the tellers, feeling like a right burke.

That was seven minutes ago. Since then he - and it was always him, doing the work - had recovered and set up the thermal drill on the main door to the vault, the four of them had stood guard to keep any of the local law enforcement officers from interfering with it, and they'd watched the timer going down, second by agonising second. Finally the drill had done its work, the door had cracked open, Clover had darted in, and they'd heard her groan of annoyance just moments before Bain had confirmed. The vault was empty.

That meant they had to hit the deposit boxes. Bain had an aversion to letting them leave the scene, or any scene, without at least something to show for it. And - sigh - that meant Dallas would have to save the day again, being the only heister present who could reliably pick a lock.

"Right," Dallas barked at the team as the assault wave came to a temporary hiatus, giving them space to talk. "I'll start cracking the boxes. The three of you wait out here, an..."

"Hang on," Hoxton cut in with his annoyingly chirpy Yorkshire accent. "I thought I was the the one in charge of this little venture. How come it's you who's givin' the orders?" He punctuated his question with a quick shot from his sidearm, straight through one of the bank's glass windows and into the forehead of a Gensec guard who'd been trying to sneak into the bank, with an accompanying cheer from Wolf.

Bain's voice crackled over the headsets before Dallas could respond. "He's got a point, Dallas. There's a hierarchy here, after all."

"For fuck's sake. Fine," Dallas grumbled. He gave a mock bow to Hoxton as another round of gunfire peppered the corner of the wall behind him. "What do we do, then?"

"Well," Hoxton said smoothly, taking momentary shelter behind a stack of pamphlets. "I'm thinkin' the three of us wait out here and kill everything that comes through the door, while you, Master Dallas, get started on those deposit boxes."

"Good plan, Hoxton," Bain confirmed.

"That's exactly what I..." Dallas stopped himself from screaming. There was something about bullets slamming into walls and sirens in the distance that could sometimes make a man regret his choice of companions. He decided it was probably quicker just to play along. At least Wolf wasn't arguing this time.

"Fine! You three keep the cops away from the vault, I'll take as much as I can carry. One damn deposit box at a time," he continued angrily, "because someone's intel turned out to be a bust."

"Hey!" Bain's disembodied voice shouted into Dallas's earpiece, like an angry bumblebee. "Get your arse into the vault and stop taking your frustrations out on me. I told you from the beginning it was going to be a surprise job."

"Are you two done with your bickering?" Clover interjected, firing another few rounds out the open doors of the bank. "Looks like the bastards are mobilisin' again."

"Fine, I'm going." Dallas stood up from cover and just had enough time to retrieve his toolkit from inside his jacket before another burst of fire caused him to leap, not gracefully, through the open vault door. He landed on his back in the middle of the carpeted room, and groaned loudly as he saw what looked like hundreds upon hundreds of identical safe deposit boxes.

"Turn on your camera," Bain instructed. "Maybe I can help."

Dallas knew it wouldn't do any good, but turned the camera on anyway. It wasn't a smart idea to disobey a directive from Bain. At the very least, he wouldn't rush to employ you again, and if you pissed him off enough, it could take him a suspiciously long time to get through the required paperwork to secure an unlawful arrest charge and have you released if the midden hit the windmill.

"Damn," Bain said through the microphone, echoing Dallas's own thoughts. "Pick a box, I guess, and get started."

At least the gunfire was a bit muffled in here. From the sounds of it, another assault was underway. But here, surrounded by however-many inches of solid metal in all directions, most of the noise was muffled. Nothing like random gunfire to distract a craftsman from opening a lock. Dallas selected a box at random and got to work.

Twenty seconds later, he was holding an A3-sized poster of some random people, dressed up in hockey gear.

"Hey, I've been looking for that one," Bain said matter-of-factly. "Put it at the bottom of the bag and keep it flat."

"You're kidding, right? What the h... you know what, fine! Whatever." Dallas elected not to argue, stashing the poster in his bag and selecting another random box. If he was the only one taking the situation seriously, damn it, he was going to take it seriously.

Twenty more seconds.

"A book? What is that, Greek? No, forget it. Try another, Dallas. Step on it."

Twenty more seconds.

"Who," Dallas asked into the microphone, "puts a cheese sandwich in a bank vault?"

"You'd be surprised," Bain's voice replied. "West End loves their cheese."

"Well, yeah. Fair enough," Dallas mused. "But someone's taken a bite out of this, and then..." he trailed off, realising he was having a debate with the leader of the world's largest underground network about a cheese sandwich. "We're gonna talk about this when we're done here," he concluded, returning to the boxes.

He was four more boxes in before he'd found anything even remotely valuable. A wad of cash, bundled with a rubber band. A few thousand dollars, at least. He tossed it into the bag, and returned t...

"Er... right," Hoxton called out, climbing awkwardly into the vault as the gunfire outside momentarily died down. "Got a bit of a problem here." He took a few more steps, waited until he was sure he had Dallas's full attention, and then turned, revealing a set of shiny silver handcuffs binding his wrists behind his back.

"What the hell? How'd they get close enoug..." Dallas began, then his brain finally caught up with his eyes. The cops didn't use handcuffs like that. He groaned, dreading the answer to the question even as he asked it. "Who cuffed you?"

"Me," Clover barked, climbing into the vault behind him. "Up against the far wall, Hox."

"What?" Dallas looked back and forward between the two of them, uncomprehending.

"Sorry mate," Hoxton admitted as he sat on the plush carpeted floor, his back against the wall. "It's our little rule. When the cuffs are on, she's in charge."

"What? In charge of what?"

"Don't fash yerself," Clover cooed, crossing the floor of the vault to grab Hoxton's legs and pull them straight. "We won't be a few minutes. Hoxton's more of a sprinter than a runner." Then, to Dallas's annoyed disbelief, she knelt over his extended legs and started fumbling with his trousers.

"What... the... fuck are you doing!?" Dallas screamed. "We don't have time for this!"

Hoxton started to say something, but Clover fetched him a ringing slap across the mask, and he fell silent. "You don't speak unless I tell y' to, English." She tugged his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, and Dallas tried to avert his gaze, but not before getting an eyeful of one of the last people he'd ever wanted to see naked.

"Bain!" Dallas barked into his microphone, refusing to look at the unfolding tableau. Even through the renewed bursts of gunfire, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of zippers being undone and clothes being removed.

Bain sounded more amused than anything else. "Take it easy, Dallas. And do you mind not shouting quite so loud?"

Dallas took a deep breath, trying to keep his heart rate under control. He'd had a plan, damn it. It was his. And while the remainder of his team ignoring said plan was hardly anything new, this was something else entirely. He was definitely getting too old to handle all this stress.

"How the fuck are you okay with this, Bain? Are you seeing what's going on? What the hell is it?"

"Well," Bain began, clearly struggling not to laugh. "When a man and a woman..."

"Or another man," Clover called out from behind Dallas's back, in a slightly strained voice.

"Right, sorry. Or another m... you know what, when consenting adults decide that they..."

"Bain!" Dallas shouted again, causing the microphone to crackle. "We're in the middle of a fucking bank job, trapped in a fucking vault, with a fucking psychopath and his shotgun outside, mowing his way through the entire fucking police force! Are you seeing this? What the fucking hell is my team doing?"

"Fucking, clearly. And remember - today it's Hoxton's team. He's in charge."

"Not fuckin' likely," Hoxton managed, before Dallas heard the sound of another slap.

"Right, sorry." Bain confirmed. "Apparently Clover's in charge at the moment. Just focus on the deposit boxes Dallas, do what you're good at, and I'll tell you when you can leave. And don't call Wolf a psychopath. You know it hurts his feelings."

Hoxton let out a strangled yelp, and Dallas involuntarily looked behind him. Clover was perched over his cock, facing away from him with her pants around her knees. Her hands were resting on Hoxton's naked legs, keeping her balance as she rocked her hips back and forward across his lap. She turned her masked face towards Dallas, pushing herself down further onto Hoxton's cock, and in between gentle gasps for breath she spoke. "You can keep watchin', old man, or you can keep crackin' the boxes. Sooner you're done, the sooner we're gone."

"Right," Dallas snapped. With exaggerated care he retrieved his tools, turned his back on the two of them again, and got back to work.

Twenty more seconds.

"A jewellery box. Not bad. Stash it and keep going."

"I know," Dallas grumbled. "We don't have enough yet."

Twenty more seconds. Empty box.

Twenty more seconds. Empty box.

"Fuck me harder, English. You're makin' me do all the work." Dallas heard another slapping noise, this time from what sounded like skin, and he dropped his tools again in the middle of unpicking the next box.

"I can't do this, Bain. I can't work like this." Dallas stumbled his way through another lock, and shoved the handful of loose cash he found in the box into his bag.

"Hey, at least you don't have to watch," Bain pointed out. "Do you two mind turning off your cams and your mikes for a few minutes?"

"Fuck off," Clover called out, her voice perfectly level. In contrast to Hoxton's growing moans, she sounded as though she was perfectly in control of herself.

Dallas slammed the deposit box, a bit harder than he'd meant to, and caught a glimpse of his two companions as he turned to reach another box. Clover had her legs spread perpendicular to Hoxton's body and was using her grip on his knees to push herself up and down, adding a regular slapping noise to the litany of sounds as her arse bounced up and down on Hoxton's hips. Dallas tried to ignore them and continue his work.

"Damn," Bain commented as Dallas opened another box. "How is she doing that?"

"Shut up," Dallas retorted, scooping another wad of bills into his bag.

"Nobody should be able to hold themselves like that."

"Shut up." Empty box.

"Look, he can fit all of his..."

"Shut up." Empty box.

"Wow. Now that's a hell of an achievement."

"Shut..." Dallas swung open another deposit box to find one of the biggest piles of gold bullion he'd ever seen. "Thank fuck. Finally. Now can we go?"

"Sorry, I was distracted. Yeah, sure. Bag the gold and then all of you can get out of here."

Dallas started stacking the gold bars in his bag, trying not to watch his two companions. Clover had turned herself around to face Hoxton, holding his shoulders in place against the wall with her feet while she rocked, hard and fast, over his cock. Dallas tried not to think about how she'd managed to get into that position.

Still shoveling the gold, Dallas snapped, "Are you two almost done?"

As if on cue, Hoxton let out a deep howl, and Dallas winced as he saw a splash of white liquid trickle down the outside of his leg. Clover carefully put her legs down and lifted herself off Hoxton's cock, trailing a few drops behind her. "He's done."

"Good," Dallas cried, zipping up the loot bag. "Now we c..."

"Hold up," Clover replied. "He's done. I'm not."

"No. No. Fuck no," Dallas stammered. "I'm not waiting here another moment while you t..."

Clover laughed. "Just messin' with you, Dallas." She bent over slowly, playfully giving Dallas an eyeful of her arse, while she grabbed her trousers and slid them back up over her hips, and just as Dallas started to speak again, she interrupted with "He can finish me off in the van."

Dallas started to protest, but before he could say anything Wolf's voice echoed through their earpieces, sounding even more panicked than usual. "Guys? Dozer's comin'!"

"Right, time to go," Hoxton called out, in his cheeky voice. He rolled onto his back, leaving a network of stains on the vault floor, and presented his wrists just above his naked arse. "Get these things off of me, Clover, and let's make trails."

Dallas shook his head, slung the bag over his back and stumbled out of the vault to help Wolf, leaving the two of them to sort themselves out.

\------------------------------------------------

In a nearby alley, a few minutes later, the bag of loot slid easily across the floor of the van as the Payday crew climbed into the back, just ahead of the next assault wave.

"Are you goin' to say it, or should I?" Hoxton teased.

"Fuck you," Dallas grumbled as the van doors closed behind him. "Go ahead, say it."

As the van roared to life and they made their escape, Hoxton pulled up his mask and, grinning from ear to ear, winked at Clover. "Tightest crew ever."

**Author's Note:**

> [Accompanying Artwork (Hoxton)](https://images3.alphacoders.com/779/779471.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> [Accompanying Artwork (Clover)](https://img.fireden.net/v/image/1503/41/1503410144881.jpg)


End file.
